Taggage wordage

Ok, so I was "tagged" about a week ago and because of my rad skills of procrastination I am just now getting around to "un-tagging" myself. (If I were still 12 and this were a game of freeze-tag, now would definitely be the point of the programming where I would go to the bathroom.)

Anyway, on with the taggage:

1.) I have a keen ability to wage "What if" conversations with myself about pretty petty, non-consequencial things. I usually do this a few times a day, usually revolving around and email response to a co-worker, a phone call or me telling someone I can't hang out. At first I usually go over the words I want to use, not trying to be offensive or trite. From there I try to gauge the respondents response -- both good and bad -- and figure out a response for their response -- both good and bad. Then repeat. I will sit and go over a simple email for minutes/hours before hitting send. Sometimes it has gone days until I got the wording they way I felt most comfortable and my responses all worked out. Weird. But I just want to be prepared.

2) I envision myself as becoming a "classy" looking bald man. You know, the college professor type. The dude with no hair, glasses, tweed jacket or sweater. The intelligent type. Problem is, I have no tweed jacket. Don't need glasses. However, I have no problem in the sweater category and in THE FACT THAT I AM LOSING MY HAIR. Come on, seriously. I'm 24 (almost 25, yeah! for lower car insurance.) and I'm going bald. Weird.

3.) I was editor of my college paper. Met my wife there. Taught her everything she knows. Now she has a better job than I. Weird.

4.) I have a wife who is the only person in the world who knows that by turning the TV to channel 4 (because in our non-cable-having-household it doesn't come in) after 10 minutes the TV will automatically turn off. Weird.

5.) I once had a stage in my life where I didn't like to wear jeans. Just wore those cargo-pant things and khakis. In high school. I now wear jeans all of the time. I also never wore any other sock than those little white anklet thingies. Also in high school. I now have a self-imposed vendetta on white socks. Give me a pair of thick 100% cotton black socks (I don't care if they don't match my pants) and it's go-time. Weird. (Well not really, I guess.)

6.) (Because I want to) I have a fear, a little one, of when I am driving and someone goes to pass me that they are actually passing me just to slow up, pull out a gun and shoot me in drive-by fashion. This proves especially emotionally draining when I drive back to Ohio and have to go through Chicago. Weird, indeed.